


Fall

by TinyThoughts



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: And oh, Autumn, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Winter, because that is what this is all about, cold air with a hint of snow, oh the pining, prompts, that tight feeling in your chest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29377575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyThoughts/pseuds/TinyThoughts
Summary: Sensory prompt; 31. The cold sharp smell of snow, dealers choice for characters?Or,Things are coming to an end. Again. Geralt hates hates hates it, the way that the leaves turn rust and gold and the wind start to show its fangs. Not because they are heading towards darker times. Not because it is getting colder, not even because how his elbow aches from that one time it broke badly.He hates it because he knows what he must leave.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 70





	Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @ahh-fxck on Tumblr for sending me the prompt! <3<3<3   
> I needed it, needed to use my writing muscles in this way.  
> Then again, I am bad a staying with the prompt, I go about it in a roundabout way, but we got there in the end.  
> If you want to send me a sensory promt (or any for that matter) my inbox is always open <3

Things are coming to an end. Again.

Geralt hates hates hates it, the way that the leaves turn rust and gold and the wind start to show its fangs.

Not because they are heading towards darker times. Not because it is getting colder, not even because how his elbow aches from that one time it broke badly.

He hates it because he knows what he must leave.

During the summer his path often crosses with his friends. He meets Triss as he takes a break at whatever court she is at at the time. He meets his brothers sometimes, coming together to fight a royal griffin or just make a local tavern a great deal richer. He meets Yennefer all the times, their paths entwined that is both pain and pleasure.

But the one he looks forward to the most, is the one accompanied with a lute.

Jaskier spends a few weeks at the time with Geralt every year. Most of the year actually, if circumstance allows it. And as soon as the leaves fall, so does Jaskiers smiles.

They both know it is time to part.

Geralt has spent many a winter adrift, but never together with his friend. Probably more than a friend, if he is honest, and Geralt prides himself with lying to no one but himself.

This year is particularly hard. Because Geralt is finally realizing that he actually _is_ lying to himself about how he feels for the bard.

Lying to yourself is one thing, but lying to your friend is completely another.

But Jaskier never asks, because there is nothing to ask about is there? But he wants him to ask, oh how he wants him to. It drives Geralt up the wall, to see their parting coming but doing nothing about it.

So he watches Jaskiers smiles falter, and dreams about making it stay.

He feels the ache right into his core, even before they part.

The emptiness that comes when he leaves the bard behind.

~

Jaskier watches his witcher.

There is something about the fall that makes Geralt sad, and Jaskier is not sure how to help. His brow furrows, his sighs are deeper, drawing further and further away.

Something small, dark and terrible in the back of Jaskiers head tells him Geralt is tiring of him. That he is too much, that he is driving the witcher away. Because away the witcher goes, every year without a fail. After the leaves fall, before the snow comes, Geralt leaves him behind.

It is that time of the year again, and Jaskier makes a decision. Rip off the band aid, let it bleed for a while.

“I'm leaving tomorrow.” He tells Geralt. The witcher looks stunned, opening and closing his mouth before choosing his words.

“Fine.” is all he gets, then Geralt walks out into the woods.

He is gone for hours, and it hurts. But it is better this way. Better to not wear out his welcome.

Because something is different this year. Geralt looks at him for long moments at the time when he thinks Jaskier isn’t paying attention.   
Jaskier always pays attention.

Geralt has started touching him more. Not anything big, but a hand on the shoulder here, a pat on the back there. It sends him into flutters every time, it’s hard not to fall straight into that sweet trap his mind is snaring him into. That maybe Geralt cares. Maybe Geralt wants him around.

But fall comes, like it does every year, and Geralt prepares to leave. Draws back.

So it is time to protect himself.

The next morning he sets out, leaving Geralt back at the camp, Pegasus reluctantly taking him towards the nearest inn.

~

Geralt is half a day away when it happens.

He breaks. His heart beats violently, his hands start to shake and his breaths is coming fast.

Jaskier left him.

No.

He can’t take it.

Not this time. Not ever again, if he can help it.

When he turns Roach around she is eagerly taking them back from where they came. Geralt's elbow aches, his heart aches, he feels so lonely it hurts.

He hates hates hates this.

~

Jaskier rents a room above the tavern. He will stay for a week and preform, earning some coin for the road.

He unpacks some of his doublets, going through them to see what needs mending.

Just one, he notices.

The others have Geralt's precise stitches on them, and fuck, what is he doing?

Why? Why did he leave?

What if Geralt never comes back for him?

He takes the stitched up doublet and presses it against his chest, as if he could bring Geralt closer. Bring him back.

There is a commotion downstairs, but there always is in places like this, so he pays it no mind. He focus on the sharp sting in his eyes, the tightness in his throat.

Then someone is at his door, pounding hard.

Through the wood he can hear protests, the barkeep very much disliking whoever it is.

“Master witcher, this is most irregular!” He shouts and oh.

Jaskeir throws the door open, doublet still clutched to his chest, and there is Geralt.

They stare at each other, both breathing hard.

There are red blotches on Geralt's cheeks, his fists clenched at his sides. He seems unharmed, but his eyes looks like someone tore out his heart.

“Geralt.” Jaskier breathes, and the spell is broken.

Geralt lunges forward, hugging Jaskier close, kicking the door in the barkeeps face. He is stil complaining but Jaskier can’t care about it for a moment, because his heart is doing kickflips in his chest, his throat so tight it hurts.

His arms are stuck between them, Geralt pressing him close with an arm around his back and one hand on the back of his head.

His nose is cold when he burrows it into the side of Jaskiers neck, and Jaskier draws a jagged breath.

Wriggles to free his arms and the doublet fall at their feet when they come free and he hugs him right back.

“Come with me.” Geralt says to his neck. “Come _home_ with me.”

Jaskier breaks.

His heart beats violently, his hands start to shake and his breaths are coming fast.

“I’ll go anywhere if it’s with you.” He sobs, he feels his chin wrinkle and his can’t see through the tears, but Geralt makes a sobbing sound too, a wet chuckle, and oh.

They stay the night at the tavern.

Geralt only leaves to make sure Roach is stabled next to Pegasus. And in the morning, they leave together.

Towards the mountains.

~

The air is crisp up here. The sky clear, the sun bright.

They arrive early at the keep, it’s looming walls promising a safe haven of the darkness that is to come.

Jaskier can’t stop smiling, and it is the best decision Geralt ever made. Grabbing his hand, taking a jump.

He shows Jaskier around, all the dizzying paths and empty halls.

They stop on top of a tower, looking down at the land below. There are no leaves up here, only pine needles. Rolling green hills up and down the mountainside. Jaskiers teeth are clattering, the wind running straight through his clothes despite the cloak Geralt draped over him.

So Geralt stands behind him and hugs him close.

With Jaskier leaning against his chest, far above the world, the cold, sharp smell of snow reaches him. The clouds are forming up in the distance, dark and angry. The cold pinches his cheeks, his breath fog.

He kisses the back of Jaskiers head, the bard humming in response and gripping his hands.

“I always hated fall.” Geralt confesses. “I hated having to leave.”

“I always hated watching you go.” Jaskier replies, snuggling closer into the embrace. It is very cold up here, and it is only going to get worse.

“Next time, I’ll follow you. Wherever it might be.”

Jaskier presses Geralt's gloved hand to his lips, and despite the cold, Geralt is burning like a thousand suns.

**Author's Note:**

> Come taste the winter air with me!  
> Im Dapandapod on Tumblr <3


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